Moonlight Desires: Fetish
by Mireille DeMaupassant
Summary: Excerpt: Dozens of round tables, each seating only one, are arranged on either side of a large candlelit room, leaving an aisle in the center. One gets the idea of some kind of restaurant, but it isn’t food that is feasted on here, though the reason to co


**Disclaimer:** You know how this song goes…

**Feech's Note:** Okay, so this is the first of what I am hoping will be a three (maybe more) story "Moonlight Desires" series—I just have to think of more "moonlight desires". If anyone has any brilliant ideas, leave them in a review. I'm always open to suggestions. :)

**Moonlight Desires: Fetish**

**Part One**

I look down at the blond head of my wife, bobbing rhythmically between my thighs, my penis held firmly between her lips. Her tongue works masterfully over and around the rigid appendage, while her lips apply a gently suction to it. It wasn't long ago that this would have been enough to bring me to my arrival, but the times have changed and I've developed an appetite for something not even my Narcissa's skillful mouth can satisfy.

Moonlight Desires. That is where I go to satiate this newly acquired taste. To those who do not know what lies past its dark walls, it doesn't look like much. Dozens of round tables, each seating only one, are arranged on either side of a large candlelit room, leaving an aisle in the center. One gets the idea of some kind of restaurant, but it isn't food that is feasted on here, though the reason to come is hunger. At each table, a man sits, and gazes across the room. If he is lucky, he will catch the eyes of another and, after a few choice glances are shared, the two will stand and walk down the aisle, past the other tables, to a black door—the only door in the room, aside from the entrance. Behind that black door lies hallways full of rooms containing the most unimaginable of tools and devices, made only to serve one purpose: to suit the carnal desires of those like myself. No names are exchanged, and sometimes, not even a word; only a silent concordance between the two of their reason for being there.

I, myself, have been through this process several times, each time with a different man, but in my current situation, only one occurrence comes to mind. I can already feel the familiar prickling in my lower region as the thought rises into recollection. It was months ago but, when I close my eyes, I can still see it as clearly as if it were last night. I sat in the foyer of Moonlight Desires, looking over the men sitting across from me. I was hungry for new blood, but I'd already been with more than half the men there, and the rest didn't have the look of what I wanted. Then, like and answer to my mental call, _he_ walked through the entrance door. I didn't recognize him as anyone I'd seen before, as no one had ever strode into Moonlight Desires dressed in a floor length midnight blue cloak, with the hood up, covering his face. I watched him as he wove his way through several of the tables, entirely intrigued by this new presence. I don't know if it was because he knew I was watching him but, as he neared the table directly across from mine, the opening of the hood turned in my direction, and, for the briefest of moments, he paused. Then, still looking in my direction, he continued to the table and took a seat. Now, I was staring into a dark void, but at that moment, the most peculiar of feelings came over me. It was the feeling that I was being smirked at. I couldn't see his face but, somehow, I knew he was smirking at me. My interest quickly escalated to the point of obsession. Suddenly, I had to know who this person was. Luckily, I wasn't kept long in waiting.

Two hands—young, with fingernails adorned with black lacquer—protruded from the cloak's opening. They traveled up to the edges of the hood, bring out a pair of lean, bronzed arms, and grasped onto them. The head lowered as the hood was pulled down and, for a while, all I could see was a tuft of messy black hair. But then the head raised again, and I was met with two shockingly familiar green eyes. Just below the eyes was the smirk I was feeling only moments ago.

Potter.

A flurry of emotions bubbled up inside of me. Hate. Resent. But, most of all, lust. It was true that I hated the boy from the very first time I laid eyes on him. Why? Because I knew what he was. He was the one destined to defeat my Lord and Master. Every time I saw him I wanted to slip my fingers around his throat and squeeze the life out him but, when I saw him for the first time, after his sixteenth birthday, things became slightly different. He had grown up, not just physically—thought that was also true—but there was also this darkness that was beginning to grow inside of him. I can only guess that it was a result of the death of that mutt he called a godfather. It was obvious to me that he was aware of it as well, but he kept it a secret. He had good reason to do so; as the "savior" of the wizarding world, he was to be the epitome of light. Many would have found it more than peculiar that the one who was to be saving their lives was full of darkness. It was this darkness in him that drew me to him. I still hated him but, now, instead of killing him, I wanted to wrap my fingers around him for a different reason.

I had been most anxious to see what would become of him, after his defeat of the Dark Lord but, he had chosen, that very day, to go into hiding. That was the last anyone had seen of him. With all the hustle and bustle over the Dark Lord finally being gone, Potter had slipped out of my mind for a long time. But, after I had finally paid the right people into believing I had forsaken the Lord Voldemort long before his defeat, the wondering returned.

As I stared at him from my seat, I saw that in three years, he seemed to have let the darkness that was inside of him grow, and embraced it. Apart from the black nail polish, almost nothing about his appearance had changed, but there was something about his person that wasn't quite the same. The way he sat there, with his twisted smile, it was as if his confidence had overstepped the boundary into cockiness. He knew I wanted him, and he was making no effort to hide the fact that he wanted me. I leaned into the table, resting my elbows on the surface and entwining my fingers under my chin. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His right eyebrow went up, daring me to make the first move.

Without hesitation, I stood up and began to make my way down the long isle to the black door. There was no need to look behind me to know he was following me; I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way down the labyrinthine passages, hear his deep breathing. It wasn't until I had reached my destination that I finally turned around and looked at him, watching him as he joined me in the dimly lit room. I saw his eyes glance around the room, studying all of the various devices hanging on the walls, before they finally fell upon me again. With out saying a word, his hands went to the tie of his cloak and, within seconds, it slipped off his shoulders and onto the floor. Then, he took five slow steps toward me and closed the gap between our bodies.

"Care to explain what you have planned for me, tonight…_Mr. Malfoy_?" he asked, running a finger down the silver buttons of my black shirt.

I reached down and grabbed his hand, just as it was nearing the fastenings of my trousers. "Well, _Mr. Potter,_ I was hoping to make it up as we go along."

He brought his face closer to mine. "And…do you intend to use _all_ of these, on me?"

I smiled. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Without saying anything more, I gestured to a white circle in the middle of the stone floor. He obeyed the unspoken command and stepped into it. Then, without hesitation, he began to undress. As he peeled off each article of clothing, he kept his emerald eyes glued to mine. The arrogant smirk returned to his face and I knew then that he had tuned in to the excitement I felt as more and more of his skin became exposed. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he stood completely naked before me. I said nothing, and reached into the pocket of my robes for my wand. Then, with a flick of my wrist, sets of iron restraints flew from the opposite walls of the room and clasp themselves around his wrists and ankles. He looked up at me and smiled.

I approached him, tucking my wand back into my robes, and brought my hand to his cheek. His skin was so soft, so full of youth. Suddenly, a bout of the hate I felt for him quickly surged through me and, before I could stop myself, my hand swung forward and a shark smack ensued as it made contact with the cheek I had just been caressing. He brought his face back from where my slap had snapped it. "Is this how the game is going to be played, _Mr. Malfoy_?"

The rest of our time spent together went on, just like that; I tried used my body, as well as the various devices in the room, to please him, but would be overcome by my hatred for him and ended up hurting him. I cut him, slapped him, sucked him, bent him over, and fucked him, mercilessly, and in return, he screamed for me, begged me for more, urged me to let it all out, to hold nothing back. That night, I released ten years of hate and lust on him, and he brought pleasures to my body that I never imagined to be possible.

I thrust my fingers into Narcissa's hair as these memories prove to me all the motivation I need to reach my climax. My hips lift from the chair and I cry out as my seed gushes into her mouth and down her throat. Then, I fall back and watch as she releases my cock and brings herself up from her spot on the floor, taking a seat in my lap, instead.

"Was that to your liking, Lucius, my love?" she asks before pressing her lips to mine.

I bring my hand to her face and run the tips of my fingers down her cheek. "Absolutely, darling," I whisper to her. She smiles contently and curls up in my lap.

I don't remember anything of the ending of my night with Potter, save that it came too quickly. And every night after it, I spent in my bedroom, manipulating myself, vainly attempting to simulate the pleasures his body had brought me. I haven't returned to Moonlight Desires since then; there is no need to go back, not even to see if he is there again—though I know there is no chance of it. I've had the best and, after that, Moonlight Desires has nothing to offer me.

**More Feech Notes:** As you have probably figured out, there is another part to this story. (if you haven't, refer to top of page) I haven't actually written part two yet but, I'm definitely going to in the near future. I probably won't be able to post it on because…well…it's going to be uber-slashy and I'd end up with a life-long ban. Once I have it written, though, I'll find some place to post it (…maybe in my livejournal?) and make it known to the world. Peaches! Oh yeah, and don't forget to review! I live on those things!


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